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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29023011">Monster</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sir_Lupa/pseuds/Sir_Lupa'>Sir_Lupa</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Emotional Hurt/Comfort, I havent listened to season 5 yet so im sorry if something like this sort of happened there, Jon gets all of the hugs later its okay, M/M, Peter Lukas is a Dick, Pre-Season 4 Finale, So does Martin, The Lonely - Freeform, a smidge of angst, dont worry the Boys make up in ep 159 and 160 it is just not pictured here, jon cries, mostly hurt then comfort then hurt again, potentially ooc im sorry i did my best, this is also after martin turned down jon's offer for freedom, youve been warned</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 10:33:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,417</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29023011</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sir_Lupa/pseuds/Sir_Lupa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After a late night at the Magnus Institute, Jon grew frustrated at what he was becoming. Everyone kept calling him a monster, and he believed them. However, his mind kept going back to a certain someone whose opinion mattered most to him. It hurt for Jon to be alone with his painful thoughts and it hurt even more to think about Martin. It hurt that he was just a monster in the eyes of those he cared about. Maybe Martin saw him differently? </p><p>Jon was alone with his thoughts until Martin joined him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>51</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Monster</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The tape recorder was warm to the touch, almost alive under Jon’s fingertips. After a moment, he removed the tape and sat staring at it, his chin in his hands. The silence was almost deafening in his office and the feeling that could only be described as hunger pervaded the rest of his senses. He had already satisfied the urge, the tape before him held his voice and the story of another poor soul who thought the Magnus Institute could help them. Jon felt himself grow restless, wanting to rifle through more statements or even head out into the chilly dusk. He knew better than to do the latter. The thought of going out to…hunt… made him sick to his stomach. Yet, he hungered and his frustration grew. How could he hunger for more? Wasn’t the statement enough? Would they ever be enough, in the long run?</p><p>Inhaling deeply, he tried to regain control of his senses. He took in the smell of cigarette smoke on his sweater, the feeling of the hard, wooden chair beneath him, the buzz of the electricity in the lights, the sight of his desk covered in scattered papers, the sense of the endless knowledge pushing against him at all times. He exhaled pure frustration and raked his nails down his cheeks. Jon was tired, so worn and drawn thin into a caricature of his former self. He readjusted his sitting position, sinking deeper into his chair as he contemplated.</p><p>Maybe he could get another statement. Fuel to the fire, whether that fire was his body or his research on the Extinction he had not yet decided. Could be both, it seemed likely if he chose right. Maybe he could just weather it out. It was getting late, and the ‘hunger’ was not to the point of controlling him. He could just leave and get some rest before continuing his work the next day. Still, Jon worried. If he came across someone with a story to tell, who knows what could overcome him. Such a dilemma consumed him for the better part of half an hour before he finally decided he would go home.</p><p>As Jon stood to leave, however, he paused. He looked down at his hands, inspecting his many scars from encounters long passed. Once, he had been so afraid of the possibility of monsters and entities actually existing. Now that he knew that they did, Jon was honestly more afraid of the monster he was becoming, not of the horrors he had faced or would come to face. He flexed his fingers in a claw-like manner, mimicking the way that the Hunters had painfully held his neck in his own office. He remembered how helpless he had felt and wondered if that’s how his own victims suffered when he drew their statements from them. It was different for him, though. He was a monster that preyed on the innocent; the traumatized. He deserved to be hunted. His victims were just people. Innocent people.</p><p>If he were such a monster, couldn’t he have defended himself more? Was there something he could have done when he was trapped or kidnapped all of those times? Jon got the distinct feeling that he, in many ways, was like a domestic cat. He knew that he was powerful, but how? Was it just his voice? Was he more? Maybe, just like a common cat, he was just not so practiced in using his natural weapons. Maybe he was just too docile in the first place to even consider that he had anything to defend himself. Maybe he wasn’t so much of a monster, but was just cursed. Maybe… no, Jon knew better. Whatever he was becoming, he didn’t like it. It hurt people. It hurt innocent people and it hurt his friends, or at the least, people he considered to be his friends, even if they no longer did. He never asked to be a monster.</p><p>Shakiness started to overcome the archivist; he was so tired. He never asked to be a monster. He never wanted that life. The people around Jon hated him, feared him, avoided him, or all of the above. Even Martin. Especially Martin. A bout of pain and frustration lanced through him and he snatched the tape recorder from his desk, glaring at it accusingly. Somehow it was still warm. Jon threw it across the room where it broke apart with a loud clatter. A breathless, silent moment passed before he sank back into his seat, only to feel the hunger rise again and his agitation fall to a defeated, shaky sigh.</p><p>Not only was he tired, Jon was also alone. So painfully alone. But not of his choice, per se. He risked so much for his colleagues countless times, but it would never be enough. He would only be something that they feared and something dangerous to be suspicious of. Every attempt to appeal to them was met with scorn. And Martin… Martin wanted nothing to do with him anymore. The memory of Martin declining Jon’s offer of freedom with him left a twinge of sorrow in his heart more stubborn than the hunger within him.</p><p>Another shaky inhale did not bring the composure that Jon had been hoping for. He tried to stabilize his shaking by wrapping one arm across his waist and resting his head in his hand again, the palm over his mouth as he calmly tried to breathe through his nose.</p><p>“Come on, Jon,” he mumbled exasperatedly into his palm, “You’ve been kidnapped, stabbed, burned, and burrowed into. Now is not the time to lose your composure, especially not here. Especially not over this.”</p><p>Only the buzz of electricity and a faint burning in his eyes offered any sort of response to his words. Jon tilted his head back, blinking away the fears and pain that insisted on trying to make an appearance.</p><p>Right when he felt he had composed himself well enough, a hesitant knock sounded through his office. Startled, Jon shot up from his seat, looking to the door. It was late, no one in their right mind would want to stay in that part of the archives for as long as the archivist himself did.</p><p>“Hel-“ Jon’s voice broke briefly, “Hello?”</p><p>“Jon? Are you okay? I, uh, heard a crash earlier…”</p><p>Martin? Oh god it was Martin. The burning in his eyes returned and Jon quickly blinked it away. Martin was checking up on him? Jon thought that he didn’t want to talk to anyone anymore. If he were here, then maybe he was trying to reach out again?</p><p>“Oh, um. I’m fine, thank you. Just got a little upset, I guess?” He replied uncertainly. He cursed his disintegrating composure; he knew he did not sound okay.</p><p>Jon’s heart dropped as the door carefully swung open to reveal Martin curiously looking at him and the rest of the office. The archivist just stood frozen as Martin’s eyes hesitated on the broken tape recorder before coming to rest on the shaky man who had broken it. He looked like he wanted to say something, but stopped, as though he knew that he shouldn’t even be checking in on Jon, let alone be talking to him.</p><p>Martin didn’t get a chance to rethink whether to say something or leave, as the burning in Jon’s eyes came full force and the archivist felt himself start crying. He was honestly startled that he was still capable of it; it just felt so human. He also felt the burn of embarrassment and horror wash over him as he realized that he was crying in front of someone, in front of Martin for that matter. That only brought a shudder into his breath and he quickly covered his mouth with his hand to stifle the noise as he turned away. He heard himself apologize and try to say that he was fine, he just needed a moment. He could feel himself crying and suppressing his shuddering breaths, but it was like he was watching it from inside of himself. He hadn’t cried in so long. Why then? Why of all things did he have to cry over his own selfish emotions, when he had so much to be upset over in the past?</p><p>Jon heard the door to his office close and he felt himself slump forward, both in relief and painful acceptance that once again he was alone. It was honestly better that Martin left, he told himself. It was better that way. He began to relinquish the last bit of his composure and placed both hands on his desk to support his weight, as his legs felt too shaky to stand and he felt too restless to sit. As he succumbed to his human emotions, he didn’t even notice the warm presence beside him. Nor did he notice the tentative hand that almost -just almost- came to rest comfortingly on his back before withdrawing.</p><p>He finally noticed Martin standing there in his turmoil when his more ‘supernatural’ sense brushed up against his mind and emotions briefly, startling Jon out of his stupor. Martin stepped back when Jon flinched away, once again opening his mouth to say something, but faltered for the second time.</p><p>The second wave of embarrassment was worse.</p><p> “Martin! I- sorry, I didn’t see you there.” Jon gasped out, “Please, I’m just- I’m sorry. I didn’t th-think anyone was here tonight. I’m sorry, Martin, I d-didn’t mean to startle you. Please just go and get some rest, I’m- I’m fine, really, I am.”</p><p>He faced away again, desperately trying to calm his breathing and show Martin that he really was fine so that the embarrassment would end. He made a bit of a waving motion with one of his hands to hopefully show that as well. Jon was deeply embarrassed, but also tired and beat down. He knew he needed an emotional release; it just came at the absolute worst time possible. After he spoke, only his forced, shaky breathing filled the air for an excruciating couple of seconds.</p><p>Martin gave a shaky sigh of his own, “It’s obvious that you’re not fine, Jon. I have never seen you like this; I don’t think anyone here has.” He paused, going quiet once again.</p><p>Jon glanced briefly at him, but he felt his stomach flutter and he turned away again.</p><p>“If I am being honest with you, I d-didn’t even know I c-could cry.” He laughed wryly, choking on the word ‘cry’, “I learn some-something new about m-myself every day.”</p><p>More unbearable silence. Just Jon’s calculated breathing as his thoughts swirled around his mind. He heavily considered just asking Martin to politely leave so that he could recollect his nerves and save himself from further embarrassment, but couldn’t seem to find the words. He could feel Martin’s own inner turmoil push against his mind, of which Jon quickly recoiled from. He hated feeling so invasive, even if it was unintentional. Jon glanced at him again, hoping that he had made a move to leave. Even with blurry vision, he could still see him clearly. Why couldn’t he just go? Didn’t he want to avoid everyone?</p><p>“What happened, Jon?”</p><p>He asked it with such tenderness, with such pure intention, that the archivist felt himself immediately succumb to the tide of his own emotions. All that Jon felt next was warmth and an enveloping pressure that held him as he shook and apologized over and over in Martin’s arms. It was better than he ever imagined it in passing when he would shake those thoughts from his head. He felt the embarrassment melt away. He felt himself grasp the front of Martin’s sweater and bury his face into it. It was everything that he had ever wanted, but he knew that it wouldn’t last. Even as Jon grew more comfortable, he could feel Martin grow more tense. The archivist heard the question again and he tried to reign in his emotions in order to speak. Despite his best efforts, he was swept away in it all and he could barely choke out any words.</p><p>What little he could get across was muffled by Martin’s soft clothing as well, but it was all that needed to be conveyed: Jon never asked to be a monster, he was sick of being one, sick of being called one.</p><p>Martin grew rigid at Jon’s words, his hold on the slim, short man loosening. It wasn’t just the archivist’s words that bothered him, he knew that he and Jon were not the only ones there that night. No one was ever truly alone in the Magnus Institute.</p><p>Jon still clung to the soft clothing as he shook and cried, feeling safer than he’d felt in the longest time. When the embrace suddenly ended, he didn’t let go, but looked up into Martin’s face and his flood of emotions stilled almost entirely as a wave of confusion washed over him briefly. His heart fluttered as Martin grasped his hands in his own and gently pulled them off of the dampened sweater. The sense of joy that Jon felt was quickly dismissed as his hands were swiftly released and dropped to his sides like rocks.</p><p>“I can’t help you. I’m- I shouldn’t have come here. You’ve hurt people, Jon. Whether you wanted to be a monster or not, you are one.”</p><p>Jon felt something in himself break that he never even knew was there. Martin wouldn’t even look him in the eye as the taller man simply turned and left. The door closed with a heavy click and Jon sank to the floor, breaking into a thousand pieces.</p><p>_______________________</p><p> </p><p>Martin walked quickly to the exit, hearing a voice follow smugly after him as he fled:</p><p>“Well done, Martin. I would never have guessed that you would have it in you to do that. I have to say that I am truly proud.”</p><p>Peter Lukas watched his protégé leave the Magnus Institute as he relished in the Archivist’s distant pain. Martin was ready, then.</p><p>Only once he was entirely alone did Martin allow himself to finally fall apart. What he had just done was cruel and he knew it, but it needed to be done, didn’t it?</p><p>And yet he cried, hugging his knees tightly like he wished he had done to Jon instead of letting go. It hurt, it hurt so bad, but it was for the best.</p><p>It was for the best.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I apologize if something like this has already happened in Season 5 or if it made Jon OOC. I did my best and I saw an opportunity and took it. Everyone kept calling Jon a monster and it seemed to make him increasingly distressed, so I figured this would be at least somewhat fitting. I hope you enjoyed it!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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